Blood Sport
by Dot
Summary: A Slayer suddenly finds herself thrust into a world of deadly sport, pitting her against, and beside, the demons she was called to kill. But what can she do to fight the all-too-human men who hold her captive?
1. Incipiere

A/N: Based off of the idea in the Angel episode "The Ring", but since this story is about a Slayer, I'm putting it here. It takes place in Rome in AD 60. Joss Whedon owns the concept behind the Slayer; I only own the characters.

**Chapter One:**

The night was too still. Rubellia hated the sticky, constricting air; it wrapped its hot hands around her even though she'd stripped down to only her under-tunic. Summer in Rome was the worst thing Rubellia had ever faced, even through nearly three years as the Slayer. She understood why the vampires liked to make their homes in the mausoleums that lined the Via Sacra- they were built out of cool marble, and retained that chill through out both blistering day and sticky night. Rubellia almost wished she could climb inside one and just curl up among the funerary urns. Perhaps the Mausoleum of the Cottae?

She dismissed the idea quickly when she saw the shadowy figure drop from the roof of the mausoleum in question. Quietly, she pulled a stake from the small bag that hung at her side and moved toward the vampire. Its movements were a little jerky, its frame off balance. Newly risen, no chance to feed just yet. Her lips curled up as she crouched, waiting for her moment.

The vampire came closer, no doubt smelling the blood in her veins, but not noticing her exact presence. It growled softly, readying itself for the attack, when she pounced. Left foot planted on the ground, swift kick to the vampire's chest, punch to the jaw, stake in, and it was over.

Rubellia sighed and looked up to the sky. "That's it then. One vampire. Sacred calling indeed."

She started back home quickly, wanting to be inside before the streets started crawling with people. It would be unwelcome attention to be seen out and about at this hour, unescorted and immodestly dressed. But it wasn't too hard to sneak through the nearly empty streets- men in Rome were notoriously self-centered, and so it was usually the women one had to look out for, and they would not be out in force until at least dawn. She was lucky with the timing of that last vampire at least; there had been one day when she had not been able to get home until well after dawn, and how the eyes had widened when she walked up the Clivus Quirinius, a sight to be sure with torn clothes and dark blood standing out against her blond hair and pale skin. She almost chuckled at the memory, but the lecture she had gotten afterward was nothing to laugh at.

She arrived at the modest house on the Quirinal hill just as the sun was beginning to peak over the six other hills of Rome. She slipped inside just as the neighbors were exiting their house and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Cutting it very close, as always."

Rubellia turned and nodded to the man before her. Marcus Silanus was her Watcher- and for convenience's sake, her husband. Despite the early hour, he was already clad in the purple striped toga of a senator, the white sash over his sandy head and the small plate of salt cakes evidence that he was in the middle of the morning sacrifices, one to the household gods, another to Janus, the god who presided over the opening and closing of doors. Rubellia herself murmured a reverence to him as she closed the door. "I didn't mean to be so late."

Marcus nodded, breaking one of the salt cakes and whispering a prayer as he knelt before the cabinet that lodged the gods of the household. After the nearly silent prayer, he stood and removed his white hood. "It's alright. I just worry about your reputation."

Rubellia laughed and dropped the small bag of stakes and kicked off her dusty sandals. Servants were at her side in an instant, collecting her discarded clothing. "My reputation was ruined long ago."

Marcus had the decency to at least look a little flustered. "Well, it could not be helped. There were, indeed, vampires in the senate house… How was I to know you would be caught attempting to destroy them?"

Rubellia raised a brow. "Perhaps because you are a member of that august body and should know when they are meeting?"

Marcus looked away and stammered a little to himself. "Well, fine, then… But it was necessary."

"I won't argue with that." Rubellia collapsed in one of the chairs that lined the wall of the atrium. "Quiet night, again. One vampire, climbing out of the mausoleum of the Cottae… I think they might be nesting there. I'll hit it tonight at sundown, and make sure none of them get another meal."

"You'll have to postpone it."

"Why?"

Marcus didn't look at her as he adjusted the drape of his toga. "We've had an invitation to dine with your cousin tonight."

Rubellia laughed. "Which one? The one who tries to look down the front of my dress whenever I reach for my glass, or the one who keeps crying about her precious husband's exile in Gaul?"

"Neither. The other one."

She sobered instantly. "Oh. Did he tell you why he graced us with an invitation?"

"I didn't think to ask."

"Probably wise." Rubellia took a breath, then smiled. "I shall see you this evening then."

"Yes." Marcus moved forward, kissed her cheek. "Get some sleep."

"I will. I'll need it." As the door closed behind him, Rubellia turned to the girl who waited by her side. The servants had long since grown accustomed to their mistress's strange hours and even stranger appearance when she returned home in the morning. This girl in particular, since she was Rubellia's attendant. "Leah, please wake me at the fourth hour, and have a bath ready and my… blue stola laid out." She knelt before the small cabinet of household gods, and reached for a salt cake. "Tonight we dine with the emperor."


	2. Familia

A/N: And here is the next chapter. These two have mostly been set-up, and haven't had much in the way of action. Next chapter that will change. This story's probably gonna be pretty long, and hopefully have a twist or two no one would think of, so please hang in there!  
Also, thanks so much to those who have reviewed:

Malfoy-Lover555: Thanks! I hope you continue thinking so.

Reluctant Dragon: I haven't read the book you're talking about… but if its similar to this story, I'll have to check it out just to make sure I'm not unintentionally ripping it off!  
And now, with no further ado…

**Chapter Two: Familia (Family)**

The house on the Palatine made her feel… wrong. There was something _off_ about that house, something dark. Frankly, it made her skin crawl. She tried to convince herself that it was merely because the ground was old and hallowed- bought with the blood sacrifice of a brother a thousand years before- or perhaps that it was merely slaves from the East, conjuring vengeful magics to stop the lady of the house from conceiving. Harmless, really, and outside of her line of work.

Because if it was anything else, she could get in serious trouble.

Marcus was at her side as the steward showed them into the dining room, his movements nearly as wary as her own. The dining room was set up in the old style, three couches in a horseshoe shape, thin tables lining the inside of the "U". It was an unusual set up for this particular house; the dining room was built to hold over fifty people, and her cousin was not known for his austere dinner parties.

Of the young Julian cousins, Lucius had been everyone's least favorite. Rubellia had grown up alongside him, laughing while everyone mocked his tutors (a barber and a ballet dancer), his mother (a ruthless harpy), and his poems (bad, every one of them). He had been the butt of all of their jokes until he was fourteen, when the emperor- their uncle Claudius- had adopted him. The jokes had stopped as soon as the ink was dry on the papyrus scroll that made him Nero Claudius Caesar, a more formidable name for sure. Their uncle had died shortly after, and young Nero- only three years older than her- had become emperor of Rome.

The door across the room from them snapped open, and Rubellia jumped, fists clinching automatically, the Slayer in her ready for a fight. Nero strode in, calling out a greeting. She didn't relax when she saw that he was smiling- Nero was most dangerous when he was smiling.

He was shorter than her- a fact that had endlessly amused his stepbrother, until he'd had him killed- but he was handsome. He held out his hands as he crossed the room to embrace her, his wavy golden hair bouncing as his body hurried to catch up with his long strides. "Dear cousin," he said, kissing her cheek. His lips were soft, but there was nothing so pretty about his eyes, glittering like cold sapphires in the sunshine.

"Caesar, I was honored by your invitation," she replied, smiling demurely.

"It has been too long, Rubellia. Come, sit next to me tonight," he said, gesturing.

She reclined in the place he had indicated, watching as he greeted Marcus, who then took his position on the couch next to theirs. Nero settled himself beside her and called for the slave near the door to bring wine. The young man hurried to his master's side, head dipped low in obeisance, and poured three glasses half full of wine, then filled the rest with water. After his duty was done, he scurried back toward the door, barely making a sound.

"Are we your only guests tonight, Caesar?"

Nero nodded at her. "Yes. Well, no." He looked back to the slave and called out, "Arion, have someone fetch my wife for dinner." He smiled at Rubellia as the slave left the room and said, "With you here, I feel up to even her tiresome company." All three of them laughed, then Nero changed the subject with a wave of his hand. "Speaking of tiresome, Marcus, have you seen the production of _Medea_ at Marcellus' Theatre? It is quite dull."

Marcus laughed and nodded, and Rubellia's muscles began relaxing. Mundane theatre was nothing life threatening. After a few long minutes of talking about Medea, which Rubellia found as dull as Nero found that particular production, Nero's wife entered the room.

Octavia was beautiful, with gentle sadness etched into her young, careworn face. The dark hair piled on top of her head contrasted sharply the pale marble of her face, and she moved gracefully but carefully, every motion set as the perfect wife and hostess. Until she looked up and saw Rubellia, and then that beautiful face blossomed into a smile. "Rubellia!"

Rubellia had seen Octavia smile only twice since her marriage to Nero, twice over the course of seven years. Rubellia smiled back. "It's been too long, Octavia."

"Indeed," she replied, taking the empty seat beside Marcus. She didn't seem to mind that Rubellia had taken her place next to her husband. Nero and Marcus greeted Octavia. The food arrived moments later, and they spent dinner catching up, speaking like aristocrats, and Rubellia still didn't trust it, even if she did enjoy it. It wasn't often that she was allowed to merely be a lady. Strange, how a secret identity could be so freeing among people who didn't know about it. But she wasn't invited to the Palatine just so she could spend dinner discussing theatre and wine. So why had she been invited?

After dinner had been cleared away, Nero looked to his wife and said sweetly, "_Mel_, would you please leave us? I have things to discuss with our cousin and Marcus."

Octavia rose obediently, and nodded a goodbye to Marcus, then turned to Rubellia. "You are dear to me, cousin. Please, visit more often."

Rubellia promised, and then Octavia left. No goodbye passed between husband and wife, but Nero watched her as she left the room, then said, "You should visit. She's alone too often, and sometimes I worry." He caught himself and laughed. "Then I remember that I don't like her all that much."

Marcus laughed, but Rubellia just said, "Caesar, you said you had something you wished to discuss with Marcus and myself?"

Nero smiled. "Short and to the point, cousin." He looked back to the slaves, "Leave us." He took her hand as they left. "And, dear, its Nero. Tonight, we are merely family, and I am just a cousin asking a favor."

She felt a chill creep up her arm, even though his hand was quite warm. "If it is in my power."

"Ah, Rubellia, it is in only your power." He paused, then continued, all traces of the loving cousin gone from his voice. "I need you to find me a vampire."

TBC

**Note**: _Mel_ is Latin for honey.


	3. Venatus

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews! Sorry it took me so long to update this… Got a little busy. But chapter four is coming soon! Please continue to R+R.

**Chapter Three: Venatus (The Chase)**

The room was completely silent for a moment. Her breathing echoed in her ears, and she could swear she heard the pounding of her own heart. "Excuse me?" she demanded, her voice louder than she'd intended.

Nero didn't flinch. "A vampire. I need you to find me one."

Rubellia looked to Marcus, whose eyes were focused on her. "Rubellia-"

"He knows? He knows and you knew…" She shook her head. "How? I thought-"

"It's not important. What is important is that you find me what I need," Nero said.

"I don't understand."

"I am the emperor of Rome. You think there are things in this city, in this world, that escape my knowledge?"

She breathed in deeply; her eyes squeezed shut, and stayed that way for just a moment. Then she opened them and nodded decisively. "Are you looking for a specific vampire, or will just any one do?"

"That's the spirit." Nero leaned back and popped a grape into his mouth. "A specific one. He is calling himself Lucius. It may have been his name in mortal life, or perhaps just one he has adopted. It doesn't really matter. I need you to bring him to me."

"Why do you want him?"

"In the service of your emperor, you should not question."

"Forgive my insolence, Caesar," she murmured.

He stared at her for a moment, unblinking and hard, then smiled, voice warming as he clasped his hands together. "We both want the same thing: to destroy these creatures that prey on our people. You are their chosen protector, Rubellia, but so am I."

She nodded. As Nero's smile grew, so did the uneasy feeling in her stomach. It could come to no good. She knew it already.

"So we're decided then. Brilliant."

"And how am I supposed to find this Lucius? The city's full of vampires."

"This one isn't the most subtle of creatures. He isn't hard to find." Nero removed a small scroll from the folds of his toga. "This is where he will be tomorrow night. I just need you to fetch him."

Again, Rubellia bit down on her tongue. She wasn't an errand girl, even if that errand was to collect vampires. But more than that, this plan of his left her with a bad taste in her mouth. There was something off, and the taste wouldn't quite go away, like bile rising in her throat. The sweet strawberries and cream served for dessert didn't help. But she held her tongue until they were home. Until they had both stripped off the formal evening clothes and were dressed in the attire that was the norm for their evenings, and had met back in Marcus' study.

He didn't give her a chance to explode; as soon as she entered the room, he said quickly, "I swear, Rubellia, I didn't know."

"Well, you didn't look at all surprised, Marcus. You must have had some hint."

"I suspected that he would ask for your help-"

"Ask? Nero doesn't ask," she snapped. "We don't even know what he wants with this vampire."

Marcus shook his head, ran a hand through his hair. "He wasn't terribly forthcoming, was he?"

"I suppose the emperor of Rome is above explanations." She seemed to have ran out of steam; her body just felt tired, and she dropped into the chair nearest to her. "How long has he known?"

"He has always known, as the powerful men of Rome before him."

"So my dark secret isn't so secret then?" she asked, a breathy chuckle slipping out. "No less dark though."

"I recommend you go after this Lucius as soon as possible. I doubt your esteemed cousin likes to wait."

"He never did." She stood and nodded to him. "Good night, Marcus."

The Subura was a rank place, the fetid stench of decay and filth hanging off of the men and women who bustled along the streets. This part of Rome was never silent, not even at the darkest hours of night. This night was no exception and Rubellia was ready for a fight, be it with the mysterious Lucius or any other hapless demon that wandered too near her. It had been too long since she had had a really good fight, fists flying, blood spurting- out of the demon, of course. The different colors always made for interesting stains.

Thoughts like that would never go over well at Nero's dinner parties, no matter how well versed in demon lore he thought himself.

The Subura was rife with tiny alleys and niches, and it was almost hard to find the right one. But she heard the commotion from the main street, even if the noise was slight. A small, stifled cry, the growl of an animal more feral than any lion in the games. She ran into the alley, pulling a stake from the satchel slung across her shoulder.

Lucius was exactly where Nero had said he would be, which unnerved her more than the vampire's blood stained mouth did.

He must have been young when he was turned, because his body was slim, compact, and he was barely her height. Obviously never in the army. Or perhaps he wasn't Roman at all and have traveled to Italy after his turning, and adopted the Roman name once inside the city. It wasn't as if any of it mattered.

She was too late to save the woman he had killed. The vampire dropped the body as she entered the alley. She watched the woman fall. Thick dark hair and a filmy blue stola pooled around her. Not a whore. A wife, maybe a mother. She felt the rage start to build.

She raised her stake automatically. He smiled, bloody fangs and lips leering at her. "Slayer. I didn't expect you."

"I expected you."

"Did you now?" he asked. Not taking his eyes off of her, he kneeled down at next to the body and ripped the necklace from around the woman's neck.

"A souvenir?" She slowly slipped the stake back in her bag, and stepped forward.

He lost his grin, and slipped into a fighting stance. The change was subtle, a shift of his left foot as he tucked the necklace into the pouch at his side. "If I had known the Slayer was so vigilant, I may have waited to come to the city until after you were dead."

"But you didn't. Your mistake."

"You're just a girl."

"And you're just a vampire."

He hit her before the word had left her mouth.

TBC


	4. Labor Vocat

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews! MalfoyLover and Reluctant Dragon- thank you guys for sticking with me! This chapter's a bit longer, and the length I am shooting for from now on.

**Chapter Four: Labor Vocat (Duty Calls)**

The punch connected with her jaw squarely. White spots flashed before her eyes and she stumbled backward. He swung again, but she blocked his fist and struck out. Her hit was less effective; the vampire barely moved.

"Small wonder you all die so young."

She swung again, catching him on the underside of his jaw and he moved back. She kicked out, her booted foot about to connect with his chest when he grabbed it and spun her. She didn't hit the ground as hard as she expected to- the woman's body cushioned her fall. Rubellia sprang up and attacked again, driving him to the side with a flurry of blows. Nothing kept him back for long.

He gained the upper hand quickly- he had had it from that first blow. He caught her fist when she threw a sloppy punch, and twisted her wrist hard. "Slayers aren't so tough after all, are they?"

She didn't answer; the pain was too much. His knee came up, slammed her in the stomach and she fell to her knees. He laid her the rest of the way down, looming above her and then climbing atop her, saliva dripping from yellowed fangs. "I always wanted to taste one of you," he whispered as he leaned toward her.

She moved quickly, wrapping her legs around his hips and spinning him. She ended up on top of him and straddling his waist.

He smiled at the change in position, but she could see his nervousness. "Where's your stake?"

"Don't need one," she said, then grabbed his head and slammed it against the ground.

Rubellia stood and backed away from the vampire, then kneeled next to the woman's body. "Gods grant you peace, _domina_," she whispered, closing the woman's glassy eyes, then turning back to the unconscious vampire. "I've still got work to do."

By the time she'd made it back to the Quirinal, she'd thanked every god she could think of- even the Christian one- that vampires turned to dust. If she had to carry bodies around every night, she would never have survived to see her eighteenth birthday. And if she had to carry this particular one any more, she doubted she'd make it to her nineteenth.

As part of their arrangements, Nero's men were waiting for her, in the shadows of the hilly street in front of her house. She passed the vampire off to them. "If he wakes up, hit him hard."

The leader of the men, clad in a leather cuirass and a condescending smirk, looked down at her, brow raised. "We know."

She rolled her eyes and turned away, walking toward the house without another word. She didn't even spare a glance for Marcus, who rose from the chair he had been waiting- and dozing- in, sputtering sleepy mumbles as soon as she entered.

"Goodnight," she called over his shoulder, ignoring his protestations and demands that she wait. Her night had been long enough without having to make a full report.

Nero didn't call on them that night, or the next. Rubellia began to wonder if he had lost interest in his venture into the supernatural, just as he'd lost interest in writing the epic poem about the she-wolf that had suckled Romulus and Remus, back when they were children. His fancies were fleeting at best.

But on the third night, Marcus called her into his study, still clad in his senatorial toga and looking agitated. "Your cousin-"

"Must you always refer to him as that?"

"Nero wishes us to dine with him tonight."

"Short notice. I'm not sure I'll have anything to wear for a spectacular Palatine dinner."

"That's just fine, since we're not going to the Palatine." At her confused look he continued. "Nero is having dinner at his villa across the Tiber, near the Janiculum."

"So this won't be a family affair?"

Marcus smiled. "Expect a crowd."

The Janiculum Hill had been the pleasure grounds of the rich for decades. Aside from the public park that _Divus Julius_ had willed the Roman people, Nero's villa was the largest property in the area. Marcus and Rubellia were admitted by the steward at the door without question.

It certainly was no family dinner. Swarms of people lined the triclinium, pearls and jewels glittering on both men and women- this was a party for the young set. Nero was the centerpiece of the room, draped in blue, his Greek style robes hiding the growing flab on his stomach. His hair was curled around his ears and rings glittered on every finger as he gestured wildly, face maniacal in its glee.

On his left was a woman- not Octavia to be sure. Rubellia was no ostracized from society so much that she didn't recognize Poppaea. Nero's mistress was older than he was, but without a single wrinkle on her milky pale skin. She was a beauty, amber colored hair falling in perfect waves around her face, eyes the same color as her dress- dark blue-purple and velvety beautiful.

On his right was a vampire.

Not the vampire, the one she had captured for him. This one was shorter and had dark hair. He was in his human guise, and rather handsome at that, deathly pale face chiseled and smiling. He appeared to be around thirty-five, but the hunting light in his cool brown eyes indicated an older vampire, one with strength and power. Without pausing in his dialogue, he locked eyes with her- his eyes telling an entirely different story than his smiling mouth.

"Rubellia!"

Nero's voice pulled her away from the vampire's gaze. She forced herself to look at her cousin, forced herself to smile and make her way across the room.

"Dear Rubellia! I'm so glad to have you here tonight." Nero stood, took her hands. "Rubellia, this is my dearest love, Poppaea, and this is _her_ dearest love Petronius, my trusted advisor and friend. He keeps me in style."

Poppaea's head tilted, eyes glinting. "Dear, I thought you'd be… bigger."

"Well, she is tall. A smidge of German blood, perhaps?" Petronius asked, smirking.

"My grandmother was a patrician," Rubellia said with practiced arrogance, her all too Roman pride stinging at the insult.

"So was mine."

"But that's not in you anymore, is it? You live on borrowed blood now."

"Keen eye!" Nero laughed gleefully. "Rubellia, you are my very soul!"

Marcus stepped to her side and took her arm. "Come, love. Let's take our seats." He led her away, and whispered, "Don't worry about Petronius. He's under control."

"Vampires are never under control." She sighed. "What are you keeping from me, Marcus?"

"You know it all soon enough. Just trust me. Please."

His wide green eyes were begging for her to listen, to wait, and she nodded. They continued across the room. They weren't seated anywhere near Nero. She counted that as a blessing; she didn't want to see what Petronius drank with dinner.

They were seated in a corner, which suited Rubellia fine; she liked to observe the people around her. However, the people seated next to them had different ideas. Aulus Gellius Paterculus was vulgar, as the newly rich usually were, and his wife Priscilla was a renowned gossip; they kept her and Marcus busy throughout dinner with tales of high society parties and exploits in the forum.

"The evidence was against him, but I did charm those jurors so, Marcus Junius." Aulus laughed. "Quite literally in fact."

"Is that so, Aulus Gellius?" Marcus asked politely, squeezing her hand. Rubellia squeezed back, fighting to keep a grin off of her face. What would this man, an advocate in the law courts, know of charms and the supernatural?

Before Aulus could reply, Priscilla cut in, her high voice chirping, "Oh, dear, this is your first party of Caesar's isn't it?" Rubellia didn't think she meant family gatherings and so she nodded. Priscilla continued. "I'm sure you'll find the entertainment superb."

"I'm sure I will," Rubellia said, and the bad feeling crept back up her spine.

Music and dancers entertained them throughout the meal, but Rubellia couldn't enjoy herself. The food tasted like straw and the noise was deafening, and she knew- she _knew_- something was wrong.

As the dessert was cleared away, Nero stood. "My friends," he called out, voice loud and clear, "tonight we have a special treat. The one you have all anticipated." Coos of awe flittered through the crowd as Nero took Poppaea's hand and pulled her to her feet. "This way, my lovely guests."

He led them through the gardens and down into a massive room, stone walls red and black, and meant to catch and keep any sound uttered. They were all quickly installed in seats- Rubellia and Marcus were called to Nero's side- and sat waiting as the curtains were pulled back from the center of the room.

The pit was immense. It was at least twenty feet across, and fifteen feet deep, sand on the bottom speckled with familiar shades of red and green. Rubellia started to feel ill as Nero stood to speak some more. She didn't listen to his words, just focused on her heartbeat as it echoed in her ears.

He stopped talking and she looked up suddenly, the roaring in her ears unaccustomed to the silence. He smiled at her and sat, Poppaea reaching for his hand as the crowd buzzed with excitement. And then they all fell silent, as the gate of the far wall began to rise. There wasn't a curse for what she saw, and even if there had been, she wouldn't be able to speak it. She didn't think she could talk at all.

"Rubellia, are you alright?" Petronius asked her, pale face a mockery of concern.

She didn't reply, just stared at the two figures standing in the sand below her. The one further away was a Fyarl demon, huge and muscle-bound, black eyes shining with the inborn rage of his race. The one closer to her was a vampire, and not just any vampire.

It was the vampire, the one she'd captured, and he was staring right at her.

TBC

Note: _Domina_ is the Latin equivalent of calling someone "Lady" or "Madam". _Divus Julius_ is the defied Julius Caesar.


	5. Et Virtus et Vitium

A/N: And here is chapter five. The plot thickens... Thanks so much for the reviews. Reluctant Dragon: this actually is based off the Angel episode. Wesley says something about the matches in ancient Rome, and my mind took off. Anyway, everyone, please read and review. The next chapter should be up soon. Till then...

**Chapter Five: Et Virtus et Vitium (Both Courage and Crime)**

A bell dinged, but Rubellia still didn't move. Neither did the vampire in the ring below her; he just stared at her. The Fyarl came forward, hit him, and the spell was broken. The vampire turned to the demon, and the fight began. So did the cheers. 

"This is it?" Rubellia murmured, wrenching her eyes away from the new blood spurts along the ground. "This is why?"

"Why of course!" Nero cried, reaching across and grabbing her hand. "Don't you see, darling, don't you understand?"

"Explain it."

"The games are so plebian. The masses love the smell, the slaughter. But this…" His eyes weren't on her anymore; they weren't on the fight. They were somewhere far away. "I saw you fight once. It was years ago and you were magnificent, no longer my pale cousin. No, you were a goddess. And the vampires… Titans here in Rome, but far more common. You saved my life."

She knew exactly what he was talking about. She had been hunting in the Subura, and had come upon vampires attacking a small party of revelers. She had saved them without thought, and afterwards noted the identity of their leader, disguised as he was in plain, unadorned linen. Nero had always liked to play the peasant. "I didn't know... I didn't know you recognized me."

"You _never_ knew. I am the world's best actor."

She looked away. Lucius was on the ground, Fyarl above him, huge hands gripping his head tightly. The cracking terra cotta skin contrasted sharply with the wheat color of his hair, and Rubellia breathed in deeply. "What do you want from me? To have fun at your party? Sloppy myself with your Chian wine and place bets?"

"I don't like your tone."

The Fyarl was pulling the vampire's head. A demon such as a Fyarl could do it, and then Lucius would be dust on the ground, mixing with the little pool of his blood and making a pinkish paste. His hair was turning red- the Fyarl's claws must have broken the skin of his scalp. The crowd exploded at the sight of more blood.

"I apologize Caesar."

As she spoke, Lucius kicked. His bare foot connected with the fyarl's leg with enough force to buckle the knee, and the demon fell on top of Lucius. He shoved the demon off and sprang to his feet, kicking the hulking demon in the gut before he could rise. The demon got to his feet after letting out a groan, and barreled into the vampire, who slammed a fist- and then a foot- into the fyarl's face.

"Oh, brilliant!" Nero cried, clapping. "Petronius, he is fantastic!"

"A fine specimen, Caesar," Petronius replied, though he did not look impressed.

Nero looked at her, all trace of coldness gone. "Rubellia, I want you here, at my side. You can help me with my venture. It is a glorious form of entertainment, no?"

"You're offering me a job?"

"Who better than the Slayer to collect demons?" Nero smiled. "My men have been getting awfully good at it, you know. But they die so easily, and it's hard to find brave ones nowadays. But you… You're the Slayer. It's in your nature. It _is_ your nature. What does it matter where and how they die, just so long as they perish? Work with me, Rubellia, and I'll make it worth your while."

Below them, Lucius swung another punch, catching the Fyarl in the jaw. Before the huge demon could react, the vampire's hand shot out, and grabbed the soft skin under the fyarl's chin. His fingers sunk into the demon's reddish throat, and pulled. The demon fell to the ground; the crowd jumped to their feet.

Nero didn't move.

She took a breath. "No."

* * *

"You have gone completely insane!" 

She'd known it was coming, known since Nero's face had closed, genteel mask in place and cold voice back. Not that he had spoken to her after his refusal, except for his curt words after the "party" had ended: "You have one day to change your mind." Marcus had been furious, but he hadn't said a word since they left the Janiculum. But now they were inside, and he was ready to yell. And yell he did.

Rubellia stopped walking as he continued his rant, and threw her shawl to the ground. A servant was at her side to pick it up in an instant, but she waved him away and sighed, then continued to Marcus' study. He entered behind her and slammed the door. "It's wrong. It's wrong and you know it."

Marcus shook his head violently, his hands clinched at his side, like he wanted to shake her instead. "It's opportunity-"

She cut him off. "How do they keep the demons caged, Marcus?" she asked. "The bands on their wrists, am I right? _Black magic_, am I right?"

"Black magic can be used for good…"

"You're deluding yourself."

"I know very well the effects of magic," he said stiffly, face angry. Then he changed, kneeling on the floor before her, face full of excitement. "Rubellia, do you know what this means?" Marcus asked, seizing her hands. "With Nero behind us, we could finally be above all this… Above the rumors and the precarious senate seat…"

"You mean _you_ could finally be above it. I'd still be out there, almost dying every night."

"No. Nero could help keep you safe."

His tone was stubborn, and had it been anyone else, she would have scoffed and turned away. But Marcus was the levelheaded one, not given to fancy. His green eyes were frenzied, wide with hope, and his face, just now starting to line with age and slack at the jaw, was red from his breathless speech. It was only occasionally that what he truly was was revealed: a man placed below his birth to care for her, leaving ambition unfulfilled. He was handsome and talented, and because of her, he had never risen in the ranks of the Senate, hadn't held an office since their "marriage".

She had always wondered what life would have been like, if she had never been called. It would have been happier, she was sure. Would they have children? Would she love him? She thought so, but there was no point in pondering it. It wasn't to be.

She raised a hand to his face, and shook her head. "I found him his vampire. I won't do it again."

He stood and backed away from her touch, and nodded, face expressionless. "Fine. I accept your decision."

"Marcus… It's-"

"Wrong. Yes. Rubellia, you are very noble." His voice was dead, as though she'd stolen everything from him, and she stood, reached out again. He let her this time, and her gentle fingers on his face brought an almost-smile to his face, as he leaned back against his desk. "We both can't have what we want, Rubellia. I do understand that."

She closed her eyes and nodded. "I'm sorry for the things you had to give up." She turned away.

"So am I," he murmured.

And then the world went black.


	6. Sola

A/N: It's been a while… Sorry about that. Please R+R. The next chapter should be up soon, now that school is out!

* * *

Chapter Six: _Sola_ (Alone)

She woke slowly, loud voices around her echoing inside her head, bouncing off the walls of her skull, and it hurt, felt like her head had caved in and somehow she'd lived through it. She couldn't quite open her eyes, couldn't quite move anything. The voices above her felt like they were coming from far away, but got clearer as she breathed in deeply.

"She's human."

"Are you sure? Maybe she's a vampire."

"She's human! I mean, look at her! She's breathing."

"Maybe she's possessed. Ethros demons-"

If she was a demon, she was relatively sure her aching head would have healed already. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. "No, just human." Her own voice sounded unfamiliar, strangled.

She was surrounded by demons. Her stomach clinched. It was some morbid dream, surely, but in dreams, pain was never so vivid.

The one above her was too pale, skin tinted with green. His Latin was impeccable, except for the slight lisp caused by the huge tusks that descended from his mouth. The one beside him was a Brachen, spiny blue face curious. Behind them was an arc of various demons, some of which she could identify on sight, most of which she couldn't.

"They bring her in for a meal?" one of the unidentified demons snarled.

"Somehow I doubt that," a voice from behind called out. "Easier meals to feed you than the Slayer."

The word echoed through the room, passing along the curious arc, and repeated with more hostility and fear every time it was uttered. She stood shakily. She was no longer clad in her dinner clothes, the pretty red stola gone, along with her jewelry and hairpins. She wore only a thin, beige tunic, her hair was down around her shoulders, and the only jewelry she was wearing was a thick metal band around her wrist, like the ones the demons in the ring had been wearing.

"You're the Slayer?" the Brachen asked, looking more terrified than terrifying.

"Yes."

The green one grinned, saliva dripping from its tusks. "I say we tear her apart."

Most of them advanced, the Brachen and an all-too-human demon with pink skin and scared green eyes hanging back and shooting worried looks at each other. She fell into a fighting stance, ignoring the pain in her head, and prayed silently to Diana, to Minerva, the goddesses that she felt were kindred. She was ready to die.

A crackling noise spread through the air as a voice called out, "Boys!"

They stopped their advance and fell back, looks of fright on their frightening faces. Rubellia narrowed her eyes, wondering what could scare demons so much that they would stop their attack on a Slayer.

If she was expecting a huge, horned demon, she was sorely disappointed. The man that was revealed by the parting crowd of demons was short, plump, and hairy, thick lips parted in a smile that made her stomach turn. He was human. That also made her stomach turn. He took a step or two forward, stopping at a red line across the floor and calling out, "Rubellia Plauta."

She stepped closer to him. "Correct, _domine_. And who are you?"

"Nero was wrong about you. You certainly have manners of a sort." He opened his mouth, presumably to tell her his name, and then she struck.

Her hand snapped forward. The move was quick, and she should have had him by the throat in an instant. Instead, she felt completely paralyzed and lightning shot through her arm. She yanked it back, then stared down at the red line. The line. Her arm had crossed it, and the lightning had struck… She looked down at the man, eyes wide. "You're a sorcerer."

"Me? No, I am no sorcerer. I just run Nero's games." He tapped on his wrist, gestured to her bracelet. "Dear girl, don't try that again. There's no promise you'll come out of it intact." She didn't reply, just breathed, teeth clinched, chin high. He looked past her, addressed the demons. "The Slayer is a part of this establishment now. If any one of you damages a hair on her pretty head… well, then, you won't make it to twenty one."

Her eyes narrowed. "Twenty one?"

He didn't bother looking back to her. "Twenty one kills in the ring. And then you're free."

"I'm already free."

"Wrong, _slave_. Circumstance dictates otherwise. You're no better than them," he said, gesturing to the demons behind her, "or them," he finished, pointing at the slaves at the door, holding trays. "Now, eat, drink, make friends with your fellow slaves. Seize the day. Because tomorrow… You might not have hands." He winked, and turned away. "Dinner is served."

The slaves standing at the door filed in while the still nameless man walked away. The demons walked to the other side of the room; the dinner routine was obviously already established. The demons walking away all gave her looks, ranging from fear to hunger, but no one said a word.

Until the Brachen poked her shoulder, blue finger contrasting sharply with her pale skin. "You have to go eat." She stared at him blankly, and he blinked, said slower, "You have to eat." Still no reply from her, and he rolled his red eyes. "Food. Over there."

"Why do you care?"

"I don't. I was just the last newcomer before they brought in that bloodsucker on the Ides, so I remember what it was like."

"Like to what?"

"Be so scared you can barely breathe."

She looked away from him. "I'm not scared."

"Liar." She saw him shake his head out of the corner of her eye, then he started to walk away. She let him go, then followed closely behind. Food- even if she had to eat it with a bunch of demons- was at least familiar, and she could use something familiar at this point.

* * *

She'd crawled into the corner with the food, a bowl of mush that she supposed passed for porridge. It looked worse than the rations her cousin Antonia's slaves got when they misbehaved. She would bet her life that it tasted worse too. But it wasn't poisoned and it wasn't full of blood or human organs. So she ate it without complaint, mind all the while working to find a way out of the mess that Nero had put her in.

The mess that _Marcus_ had put her in.

Her head slumped against the wall, shoulders drooping, eyes slipping closed. It was the posture of defeat, and she had never taken defeat lightly. It wasn't like her. But it wasn't like Marcus to hit her over the head and sell her to her cousin as a gladiator, so maybe it was time for a change.

She grunted, shaking her head to rid herself of those thoughts. There was no use in dwelling on what had happened. There would be time enough for that once she escaped. If she escaped. The warrior in her wanted to jump again at the sorcerer's magical barrier, find a way through it. The tactician, the _Roman_, knew to wait and bide her time. And so she did.

The demons were well behaved. Small fights broke out around the serving tables, but for the most part, they ate in near-silence, then slipped back to their respective sleeping pallets, and curled up. She'd never seen demons act in such a way. It was strange to think that their fiery- _albeit evil_, she added with a sneer- spirits were broken. It didn't leave much hope for her, a mere human.

She swallowed the last bite of the mush, then pushed the bowl away from her and leaned her head against the wall again. She didn't think she could sleep, even with the slave-master's words of protection echoing in her ears. Surrounded by demons… Well, it was a new situation. So she just waited, eyes half closed, legs pulled against her chest.

She wasn't surprised when he came, heard his footsteps approaching, and didn't move a muscle, not even to open her eyes and look up at him. He didn't seem in a hurry to speak either, and they stayed like that for a few long minutes.

Until her patience wore thin and she stood up.

The vampire was leaning casually against the wall, human disguise and sneer in place. "Slayer…"

She cocked her head and looked at him. "And what do you want?"

"I find it fitting, you know. A taste of your own medicine, Slayer. No more better revenge than that."

"I'm _here_ because I objected to Nero's new favorite entertainment."

"Morals. Integrity. I like that in a girl. Gives her blood a hint of-"

She hit him, and he laughed, then let the grin slip off his face. "So you're stuck here as well, with the demons you're called to kill. Poetic, isn't it?"

"Pathetic is more like it, vampire."

"Lucius," he said pleasantly, holding out a hand.

She took it warily. "Rubellia."

"A mouthful. I'm calling you Lia. I have less patience for long Etruscan names nowadays."

Her family was properly Roman, but she wasn't about to start in with another vampire about the logistics of her bloodline. "You must have made Nero very angry to get stuck in this place."

She'd caught him off guard, but he hid it quickly, his face settling into a bland mask of nonchalance. "Nero doesn't need a reason to capture and kill people."

"No. But you're not a person."

"Close enough for his tastes, I suppose. It's not always about morals or anger. It's a matter of fun and money." He pushed off the wall, circled around her. "The real question is… do _you_ have what it takes to survive?"

"Kill twenty one demons?" She smirked, stepping closer to him, finding their heights almost equally matched. "That's not a challenge." Then she shrugged, ego inflating. "But it's not as though Nero is going to let me live. I refused him. You don't do that and live."

"Yes, well, I find myself in the same position, I expect. What are we going to do about it?"

He was too close. She had initially moved toward him, but she backed away when his unnecessary breath tickled her nose. Close proximity to a vampire was never healthy. "I don't plan on making it easy for him."

"I was thinking more along the lines of escape."

She had been thinking the same thing, but she didn't trust him. She smirked. "Good plan, bloodsucker. Did you find any keys laying around here, perchance?"

"You're not ready to trust me."

"I'll never be ready to trust you, _Lucius_."

"Never comes quick in a place like this," he said, slipping back into the shadows. "Let me know."

She watched his shadow fade into the rest of the blackness, then curled up on the floor again, and resumed her quiet vigil. But deep down, she already knew.

She wouldn't make it out of here alive.


	7. Fabula Servae

A/N: In the chapter one author's note, it says this story is set in AD 60. Not so! I messed up and wanted it in AD 62.

_Fabula Servae _ The Slave's Story 

Rubellia awoke with a stiff neck, a dry mouth, and her headache gone. She didn't bother to reprimand herself for falling asleep. She didn't bother to survey her surroundings for a way to escape.

There was only one way out.

And the ethical, noble warrior wasn't going to make it.

Rubellia stretched her neck as she looked to the corner, where dirty slaves were scooping gruel into the crusty bowls from the night before and passing them out to unruly demons. She grabbed hers from the floor and headed over there, to stand behind the blue Brachen.

He turned around, smile on his face far too… _nice_ for a demon. "You've decided to join us, Slayer?"

She let her eyes flicker to Lucius, standing far off, with a bowl decidedly more reddish than the others. "Yes."

"Davod." The Brachen held out his spiny hand.

Rubellia blinked, then took his hand. "Rubellia."

Davod perked up. "I have a cousin from Eturia…"

She sighed. "How many fights have you won?"

Davod's eager expression left. "Three. Four, if I fight tonight."

"You're confident."

"I have to be."

Rubellia nodded, then slid her bowl across the line. The slave spooned some of the mush into the bowl, and slid it back. She didn't acknowledge him, just picked it up and walked away from Davod, back to her corner.

Before she could make it, she bumped into someone… or something, rather, whose elbow was almost level with her shoulder. She looked up at the beast, hearing its snarl in the pit of her stomach as well as in her ears. It was the green skinned, tusked beast from the night before, and he looked none too happy with her.

His Latin was worse when he was angry. She could barely understand his growling. "Watch where you're going, Slayer."

"Don't know how I missed you there," she said with a sneer, looking him over.

It was the wrong thing to say. She'd known it when she'd said it. The monster stepped forward, huge, veiny hands extended. "Strength aside, you're nothing but a filthy human that I could crush with these—"

Before his fingers could so much as brush her shoulders, Davod slipped between them. He smiled, voice reassuring. "Attico, come on… Save the fights for the ring." The green demon, Attico apparently, did not look convinced. Davod continued, losing the small smile. "Remember last time one of us died fought in here…"

Attico dropped back immediately. "Don't touch me again until we're in that ring, human."

"I won't find that to be a problem." She smiled, and Attico snarled at her once more then walked off. Before Davod could do the same, she asked, "What happened last time?"

"What?"

"Last time one of you fought in here. Something die?"

Davod laughed, but his wide mouth took on a mocking look. "_Something_. I suppose you could say that. Nothing that you should concern yourself about, Slayer. After all, you've surely killed twenty one _things_ before, haven't you?"

She shrugged. "Surely more than that."

Davod turned away, but craned his neck to look back at her as he walked away. "Then you should surely survive this pathetic game."

There were three fights that night. The line-ups were not announced until it was nearly time for them to start. Rubellia felt the building above her shake a little under the feet of Nero's aristocratic friends, and felt her stomach, mind, and soul burn with hatred for her cousin, for her mother who had birthed her into such a family, and her father who had handed her over to the Council of Watchers. The Watchers who had given her to Marcus.

She buried the thought.

The first fight was between two demons Rubellia had never spoken to and didn't recognize. The blue one won, and broke the albino one's back. No blood came out of the white thing's body— Rubellia noted that with a sort of disconnected fascination.

Attico and another gigantic demon fought second. The captives could watch from their prison, through the gate that led into the bottom of the ring. Rubellia wanted to act as nonchalant as Lucius was acting, with his bored look and the dirty straw colored hair that fell in his face. But instead, she found herself pressed up next to Davod at the gate, watching Attico duck a blow that would surely have taken off his head, for the demon he was fighting had claws instead of hands.

But Attico came around and gained the upper hand when he broke off half of the creature's right claw. It howled in protest, a sound that hurt Rubellia's ears, and almost crumpled to the ground. Right before its legs went out, it slammed a knee into Attico's stomach. It still fell over, but Attico had stumbled backward.

Most of the crowd was cheering for Attico; he was clearly the better fighter and clearly the more humanoid of the two demons. Romans, of course, loved the exotic, but they loved even more to watch the exotic die, watch the foreign blood spill across the sand, and study what color it was. Rubellia hated them all more than she hated Attico with his tusks and green skin. It was a revelation like no other and she snorted under her breath. Davod glared at her, obviously thinking she was laughing at the creature's pain.

Attico moved forward before the crab-demon could rise all the way up. He held in his hand the severed part of the claw. He slammed it into the crab-creature's face, then down into it's heart. The howl sounded again, louder, and the crowd all shrieked in mixed glee and fear. Attico tossed down the claw and spit on the ground.

Nero's voice rose above the clamor; Rubellia had to crane her neck to see him. "Eighteen wins for green-skinned friend! I've never seen anything like him!"

Nero was wearing purple. Poppaea was scantily dressed beside him, and to her horror, Rubellia realized that her belly was swelling. Pregnant. The gods above, in their infinite stupidity, had allowed Nero to breed. Her cousin, beautiful Octavia, would only last so long now. Rubellia let herself grieve for the cousin she would probably never see again, then focused again on Nero's words.

"Tonight, my wonderful friends, I have a special treat. Such magic that exists in the world has touched the realm of humans in more ways than one. Even our own can be changed, morphed into something less and more than mortal."

Davod poked her. "I think he's talking about you."

She elbowed him hard.

"The House of the Caesars itself has produced such a wonder. Herself only a guest at our last meeting, I introduce to you Julia Rubellia Plauta, great great granddaughter of our Tiberius himself and the Slayer of the Vampires!"

A hand clutched her shoulder; she was thrown forward from the shadows, through the opening gate, and into the bright ring itself. The sand skinned her knees, but she forced herself to her feet, ignored the sting. She rolled her shoulders and looked up, caught Nero's eye. He didn't look ashamed, didn't look afraid; he only smiled.

"And for her opponent, a special treat. From a hidden Greek island, imported especially for my own guests and friends… I give you a modern Polyphemus. A Cyclops."

The gate across from her was rising. Nero had not joked. Across from her was a Cyclops.


End file.
